Harry Potter and the Tale of Four
by Lenny13
Summary: Tale of the four heirs of Hogwarts and their journey to overcome the evils that they face.
1. Prologue

He opened his eyes, staring up at the low, uneven ceiling of his cramped and mostly forgotten room. He pulled his short, moth-eaten blanket around him tighter, fighting to keep the monsters away. It never works though. They always pull open his door and a big beefy hand reaches in to pull him out and put him to work. Out of the only place he has ever known, into a miserable and monstrous world. They pull him out of his little cupboard under the stairs.


	2. Chapter 1

A little, scrawny boy was sitting outside in the furthest corner of the school yard to the rest of the students. He was sitting alone at the base of a tree, pondering which adventures his friends would go on next. His friends were only those that existed in his mind and in his cupboard. He'd long ago come to terms that he wouldn't have any actual friends, his cousin had truly taken care of that for him. After all, who would want to be friends with a 'freak.'

He had it all worked out. His friends found out that they were special and they weren't punished for it. They had fantastic grades, the teachers liked them, they had friends that played with them, and they had family that loved them. He was happy for his only friends to have such wonderful experiences exactly the opposite of his.

Hearing the thundering crunch of his cousin's boot on the nearby gravel made the boy's head shoot up.

"Hey Freak! What are you doing out here all by your freaky self?" His cousin shouted, his two cronies nodding nearby. "I bet you're up to no good! I bet you're planning on doing something freaky again like you did last week!"

The group of boys menacingly advanced on the tiny boy with bright emerald eyes.

"We're going to stop you before you do anything freaky ever again," said his cousin's largest and most intimidating crony, Piers Polkiss.

"What's going on here?" questioned the little boy's unlikely saviour. Miss Mabon was the nicest teacher at Little Whinging Public School. She was shorter compared to many other teachers and students, though much taller than the little boy. She had light brown hair, a welcoming and heartfelt smile with little dimples, and light blue eyes hiding behind small lenses.

"He started it by throwing rocks at us!" Shouted the little boy's cousin.

"Then I trust you will be moving on," replied Miss Mabon. With that the boys hurriedly departed back to the safety of others in the school yard.

"Harry, what have I told you about sitting on your own? You should go out and make some friends during your lunch break."

"I know," the little boy smiled. "I try to but they don't want to talk to me. That's alright though, I'm just happy to come to school."

"Alright Harry. I think it's almost time for class now anyway, so off you go!" Miss Mabon watched as the little boy followed her directions obediently, making note to contact his relatives to ensure everything was alright at home.

As soon as Harry arrived back at number 4 Privet Drive, he knew something was wrong. The house was silent, and the front door was locked shut. Cautiously, he walked towards the back gate to see if he could get inside through the back door, just as his relatives got home.

"Boy! Wait there! You're in trouble Boy!" Harry's Uncle yelled. As he came closer, he grabbed onto Harry's arm, dragging him out of the neighbours sight. "Dudders told me all about how ungrateful you are for everything we provide; a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and you don't deserve a single part of it! How dare you make him look bad in front of a teacher!"

By this time, the pair were at the back door and heading inside.

"And Boy, that Miss Martin or whatever her name is called to check on you," Harry's Uncle said to him as he was thrown into his cupboard. As the bolt clicked shut his Uncle finished "If she calls again, you will regret it, Boy."

Once again, Harry was locked in his safe haven. Curled up in a ball to protect him from the outside world full of monsters and mean people. Wanting to only seek the company of his friends from the safe confines of his mind, he let his imagination take control, spinning the threads of stories of his friend's lives into an intrinsic network of adventures, wants and wishes. Although the serenity only lasted an hour, it was all that the small boy who was starved for positive attention needed to face the chores of the night that were to be inflicted on him.

When the time came his Aunt called him into the kitchen to begin cooking and preparing dinner. At the tender age of 8, Harry's slight body barely stood shoulder height with the bench he was diligently working at. One of his very few pleasures was his cooking, he had quite a bit of practice over the years to perfect his technique.

Soon after his relative's dinner was prepared, he moved onto cleaning the upstairs rooms. He dusted the rooms, straightened out both of Dudley's rooms, and cleaned the main bathroom and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's ensuite, before making sure he was back downstairs in time to wash the dishes after his relatives had finished eating the dinner he prepared earlier. Usually it would be about this time he was fed a small portion of the dinner he prepared, or at the very least, a slice of bread and water. Tonight was different though.

"Boy, come here," ordered Harry's Uncle. "You were trouble for poor Dudders, and his friends, and you made the teacher call here asking after your wellbeing. What did you tell her?"

"I didn't say anything Uncle Vernon. I don't know why she called, I swear!"

"Don't lie to me you little freak!" Vernon yelled, his face beginning to turn a dark shade of puce. "Now tell me exactly what you told her!"

"But Uncle, I didn't tell her anything. Honest!" Harry responded defensively, and began backing up towards his cupboard under the stairs. "I only said that I was happy to be at school!"

"So you're a liar and a freak. I told you we should never have taken him in, Petunia. Just a good-for-nothing like his parents!" Vernon claimed, advancing towards a frightened Harry. He grabbed Harry's arm, twisted it behind the boy's back until he heard a crack, and pushed his nephew into the dark cupboard hard, before closing the door and locking it.

Harry's arm was causing him such excruciating pain that he quickly blacked out.


	3. Chapter 2

_A few years later_

He was definitely used to the way things were now, it was a harsh life but he knew he had to deal with it. He knew he was special, a knowledge that kept him thriving each day. It differentiated him from the Boy and the Freak, both names 'lovingly' endeared to him by his relatives. Harry knew that things could only improve from here.

Ever since the night when his Uncle Vernon had broken his arm when he was 8, strange things had been happening. One of these was when he woke up the next morning to find his arm completely pain free – it had healed itself. Harry could recall another time, a few months after, when his Aunt Petunia cut off all of his hair due to her dislike of its scruffiness. It had grown back by morning, much to the anger of his Aunt. Many nights since then, he'd experienced dreams, only to find that the things he'd dreamed about happened soon after. When he was 9 he'd dreamed of finding one of Mrs Figg's cats dead on the side of the road, and three days later, he found exactly what he'd dreamt he would find. This phenomenon happened more often than any other strange things. Harry could recall another time, a few months ago when his Aunt Petunia cut off all of his hair due to her dislike of its scruffiness. It had grown back by morning, much to the anger of his Aunt.

He knew that things were going to change today. Something in his gut told him that his fortunes were soon to change.

Today was his last day of being a 10 year old, not that his relatives cared, they were more interested in his overly large cousin. The only reason his relatives cared for him was because they were required to, it was an obligation of family. And they made sure that he knew it. His only living blood relative was Aunt Petunia, and through marriage to her, her whale of a husband and son.

Still living out of his cupboard under the stairs, he was required to do all of the work around the house as payment for his relatives taking him in when no one else would. Harry was constantly being reminded that he was an unwanted nuisance. With the increase of chores in the garden, Harry albeit lean and malnourished, had a small, but muscular frame.

Midnight had come and gone before Harry knew it, and with the stroke of the clock, he turned 11. Disappointed that nothing happened, he said goodnight to his friends and tucked the small, worn blanket around him as much as possible, and went to sleep.

The morning led to yet more disappointment with his relatives being unnecessarily cruel. They got him up early to complete many different chores, twice the amount of any other day, including getting him to make his favourite foods, without allowing him any and instead forcing him to watch them eat while he had a crust of bread and water, before making him work outside under the summer sun in the garden.

Just after Harry came back outside after preparing lunch for his relatives, he noticed something strange. Sitting atop his Uncle's car was a white bird. As he walked closer to his Uncle's car, he realized that the bird wasn't just any sort of bird, but a snowy owl with a letter attached to its foot. Curiosity got the better of him and he coaxed the bird closer, gently releasing the letter when the owl was close enough. Released of its package, the owl flew off into the distance, leaving a slightly confused little boy behind.

Harry turned over the thick envelope and found it was addressed to him. It read:

_Harry Potter,  
The Cupboard Under the Stairs,  
4 Privet Drive,  
Little Whinging_

He hid it in his pocket to read in the safe confines of his cupboard when he'd finished with the chores he was required to do.

Harry went to sleep that night, happier than he'd been on his birthday in a long time. The envelope was a definite fake, but the fact that someone went through so much effort to send it to him was an astounding concept. Noone had ever gone to that much trouble to send him a letter, even a fake one before. Maybe someone was looking out for him.

A week after receiving and discarding the thick envelope, the boy was weeding the garden again, enjoying the soothing and repetitive chore. Until something pointy hit him in the back of the head.

Harry looked up to find a black, cloaked figure holding a stick at the back of his head. As he analysed the strange figure, he noticed a few features similar to those of a person in his dreams. A large hooked nose, limp shoulder length hair, dark eyes, and altogether sharp features.

"Harry Potter?" questioned the strangely dressed man with an air of expectance.

"Yes?" asked the little boy in return, wondering what the strange man wanted with him.

"You Imp. This simply will not do. No son of Lily Evans will look like this in my presence. You will go to your room and change into something far more presentable. Well, what are you waiting for? That wasn't an invitation!" thundered the strange man.

Compelled, Harry made his way back into his relative's house and straight towards his cupboard, and began to rummage around for something deemed more presentable. Unbeknownst to him, the man had followed him into the house and was watching on with interest.

"What are you doing going through there?" he demanded. "Your clothes are in your room, not a cupboard under the stairs. Hasn't your Aunt taught you anything?"

"Sir, I mean no disrespect, but this is my room. See?" said Harry after he moved aside to show the man his wordly possessions.

"I see. And how many rooms does your cousin have?"

"He has two rooms."

"And how long have you been living in your cupboard?" The man questioned.

"The whole time I've been living here," Harry replied earnestly.

Having heard the commotion of the past minute, Harry's Aunt came down from upstairs and rounded the corner. She stood very still once she caught sight of the strange man demanding Harry change.

"Snape?"

"Petunia, how very nice to see you," the cloaked man began. "One would think that you would take better care of your poor, dead sister's son. How could you overlook the fact that he has been residing in the cupboard under your stairs for the past 10 and a bit years when your son has two rooms? What possible reason could you have for imposing such a high level of neglect upon your nephew?

"Now for the reason I came today, Potter, you didn't respond to the letter you were sent last week by owl. I am aware that you received it as the bird returned without the letter attached. Don't shake your head at me! Accio Hogwarts Letter!"


End file.
